"Thought I'd find you here." Sandor had made sure Joff was safe in the castle before leaving to visit the stables. "You still mad at me, Little Wolf?"

"No," Genevieve sighed and continued grooming her horse. "Will you tell me who hurt you? I heard it was your brother."

"We're not talking about this," he growled.

"I told you what happened to me," Genevieve protested. "And I am not interested in talking about what a nice day it is."

He sighed. She had him cornered- he knew it would be a bad idea to get attached. "Aye, it was my brother. I was little and he had this toy- a wooden solider," he explained. "I just wanted to play with it. He knocked me over and pressed my face into the fire. Later when people began asking what had happened to me, our father said it was an accident- that my bedding had caught fire."

Genevieve reached up to hold his face with the intention of kissing him.

Initially, he flinched back, but then let her gently touch his scar.

"I'd kill him for you," she said.

Before that moment, Sandor never understood why peasants married. Nobles did it for power, money, and land, but he never understood what anyone else had to gain from the arrangement. Now, he thought he Genevieve was reason enough.